


The Psychic Unity of Mankind

by snarky_fangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Case Fic, Creepy, Gen, Ghosts, Mild Language, Psychics, Season 2, brief implied nudity, brothers being brothers, creepy children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6766012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_fangirl/pseuds/snarky_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters come across a young girl who has witnessed several gruesome deaths. In their efforts to protect her and her family, they quickly realize that little Maya has a connection with the dark presence living in her house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Maya played hopscotch in front of her big, Victorian-style house. She hummed a nursery rhyme to herself as she jumped over the small rock in the “5” section. The multi-colored chalky outline of the game was starting to fade since her mother drew it for her the week before. Maya wanted to use it as much as possible before the rain could wash it away forever. It had been grey and overcast for three days now, it was bound to rain eventually. Mommy insisted that Maya put on her favorite raincoat. The swirling mass of silver clouds hung low in the sky but were the furthest thing from the six year-old’s mind. The suburban street was unusually quiet that day. Mrs. Mead across the street wasn’t out mowing her lawn. Old Man Stein wasn’t patrolling the neighborhood with his basset hound. Maya had only counted three cars driving by that morning. She hadn’t seen her friends Maggie and Spencer riding on their tricycles, either. Their parents must have thought it was too grey and boring to play outside today. Everyone must have thought that. But not Maya’s parents. Her parents loved Maya. They would never want her to be sad.

Maya kept humming.

As she spun around on last section, the pull strings for the hood of her yellow rain coat flipped up into her face. Several blackbirds fluttered and fluffed themselves up in the old, barren maple tree by her front porch. Maya ignored their chittering. She used to be fascinated with the birds that would fly up to her window and peer in, but the magic of it wore off after a few weeks. Now she hardly even noticed when flocks of blackbirds or sparrows or finches sat in the big tree. Maya only thought about how long she could play hopscotch before Mommy called her inside. She scooped up the jagged rock in her little hand and tossed it. _Chink chink tap._ The rock landed on the “7” square. Her pink and white tennis shoes squeaked as she hopped and alternated between each foot.

_Squeak squeak sqwuak. Squeak squeak-_

_Tap Tap Tap._

Maya stopped and looked around for this new sound. There was no one else on the street with her, and birds didn’t make that kind of tapping noise.

_tap-Tap TAP._

She turned right and looked up. There, gently waving from her bedroom window, was a woman. She had frizzy, unkempt blonde hair with streaks of grey framing her narrow, sullen face. A thin, knobby hand with finely manicured fingernails was pressed up against the glass, her other hand still waving. Necklaces of various shapes and sizes were wrapped around the lady’s delicate neck. She wore blue eyeshadow that complemented the dark circles under her dark eyes, making them look sunken and cold. The lady’s smile was broad and strained. Dark red lipstick framed her blackened teeth. Maya thought she looked really hungry.

She also wondered why there was a stranger in her room and if her mother knew.

The lady, who Maya thought looked like an old faded picture, stared at the little girl for a few moments but never blinked. She then pointed at something behind Maya. Her cold grin stretched further across her face, revealing even more teeth. Maya turned around. Standing not three feet away from her was Old Man Stein. His eyes were bulging, and he was shivering. Probably because he forgot his coat, Maya thought. She then noticed he was holding a big, sharp knife, like the one Mommy would use to chop up vegetables. The old man brought it up to his neck, his hand quivering. Maya calmly blinked.

“Maya, sweetie, it’s time to come inside now,” A woman’s voice, Mommy, called out. Maya didn’t move or look away from the terrified man’s face. She thought she could see a tear running down into his scratchy beard. His steely blue eyes met her warm brown ones. He looked like he wanted to say something but it got stuck in his throat.

“Maya? Did you hear me?” Her mother had now stepped out onto their porch. “Maya? What are you- _Maya get away from him!_ ” She screeched, running towards her daughter.

Before Maya’s mother could reach them, Old Man Stein cleanly sliced across his throat. Blood splattered everywhere, running down onto his tan woolen cardigan and flecks of it hit Maya’s face. His limp body fell down right on top of the hopscotch drawing, dark red blood washing away the sunny yellow and pink chalk. Maya stood there, frozen and silent. She could hear her mother screaming and engulfing her in a tight embrace, but Maya was confused about just one thing. She looked back up at her window. The lady was gone. 

￼  
~~~~~~~~  


“Dean, where’s my towel?”

“How should I know? I don’t mess with your stuff!”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Dean was lying. “Dude, this isn’t funny. Give me my towel back!” He wasn’t about to give his brother the satisfaction of seeing Sam run across their motel room dripping wet and naked to grab his bag. If there would be even any clothes in there. Dean had probably stashed those, too. Their prank war had been going on for days now, ever since Sam decided to add too much salt in Dean’s coffee back in Wisconsin. Several states, three pairs of underwear, and an awkward situation with a prostitute later, neither Winchester showed any sign of calling a truce. And now Dean had gone and hidden all of the motel room’s towel as Sam tried to wash off the remaining grime from their latest job. That particular shapeshifter did not go down easy for them, to say the least.

Sam sighed, and cursed under his breath. _Dean’s gonna pay for this one_ , he thought. He pulled down the shower curtain and started sliding it off of the rod. Cold, damp plastic stuck to his legs as he wrapped the puce-and yellow-colored curtain around his waist, most of it trailing behind him. Bracing himself for the mocking laughter and cell phone pictures that were most certainly to come, Sam opened the bathroom door.

Dean was sprawled across the top of his bed, muddy boots still on, and flannel sleeves rolled up above his elbows. He had been watching something on the tv, but upon seeing his little brother step into the front room, he sat up straighter. He took in the pools of water forming around Sam’s feet and his soaking bangs falling into his eyes. Dean’s bright green eyes flashed with excitement when he noticed the shower curtain. He could barely contain his joy and pleasure with himself as he said, “See, Sammy? You didn’t need a towel after all!”

Sam gave Dean a sullen look and said nothing in return. He shuffled over to his bag, praying something would be in there, and hefted it over his shoulder. The heavy thud of his boots and other belongings hitting Sam’s back told him Dean hadn’t planned that far ahead. _Good_. The young Winchester didn’t need to plan too severe of a revenge on his pain-in-the-ass brother. Maybe just some well-placed thumbtacks on the driver’s seat in the Impala.

“While you were getting all clean and shiny, I might have found us a case. It’s pretty close, too,” Dean said casually but like he was still stifling a laugh. As Sam turned around, he noticed his brother hurriedly put his cell phone beneath his pillow. _And there’s his blackmail. Maybe I will kill Dean this time._ Sam sighed.

“Dean, c’mon, we’ve gone on twelve hunts in the past two weeks. Don’t we get some kind of a break? I know you’re –” Sam stopped. Dean stared and blinked at him, as if egging him on to finish the sentence. He was going to say “I know you’re still upset about Dad dying, but you have take a break sometime!”, but the words got stuck in his throat. It had already been a few months since the incident with Yellow Eyes and the hospital, but neither one of the Winchesters cared to talk about it much. Sam pursed his lips and tapped his right thumb against his side. Ignoring the growing ache in his forehead, Sam gave it. “Fine. What d’you got?”

Dean stared at Sam, his vivd green eyes boring into Sam’s for a beat, before he stood up. He grabbed a newspaper and held it out for Sam to take. “Gregory Stein, head of the neighborhood watch, recently retired, walks up to this little girl playing in the street and just offs himself. Butcher knife to the throat.”

Sam looked down at the front page. The picture showed a prone figure on a sidewalk, covered by a white sheet, pools of blood all around the body. “Okay, so what makes you think this is our kind of thing?”

“This isn’t the first one to happen in the neighborhood. In the past three months there have been sixteen deaths and four attempted suicides. And look here.” Dean pointed at the bottom right corner of the pictures. Peering out from a bush, barely visible, was a young girl. “Maya Lovitts has been at the scene for almost every single one. Her parents have no idea what’s going on.”

Sam frowned down at the little girl. She was staring at the dead body. It might’ve been the low-quality of the picture, but Sam thought that she almost looked calm, curious...

“You think it’s a curse? Or that Maya’s behind all of the suicides?” He asked.

Dean shrugged. “There’s something going on with this kid, and I say we pay her and her parents a little visit.”

“Okay then. You get everything ready while I get dressed, and then we’ll head out of here,” Sam said before turning back towards the bathroom door. He took two steps forward when suddenly something caught on the shower curtain. Instinct brought his hands up quickly in front of Sam’s face to try and stop the fall. His bag made a soft thump, and the plastic curtain preserving his dignity pulled away from Sam waist.

“Oof!”

Sam twisted his neck back at Dean. Dean who, with phone in hand, boot on plastic, and a smile on his face, crowed, “Smile, Sammy!”

_“Dean!”_


	2. Chapter 2

“I don’t know why we gotta wear these monkey suits, they make me feel itchy in all the wrong places,” Dean grumbled, tugging at the collar of his starched white shirt.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes as he rang the doorbell. “We’re supposed to be grief counselors, Dean. No one is gonna let some stranger into their house wearing jeans and a Metallica t-shirt. Now suck it up and stop–” He was interrupted as the faded, black door swung open. A young woman with curly brown hair stared blankly at the two men standing on her porch. She gave them a quick once-over with her golden brown eyes, a worry line appearing on her forehead.  
  
“Yes, can I help you?”  
  
Dean cleared his throat. “Hi, Mrs. Lovitts. My name is Bruce McClane and this is my partner Alan Gruber. We’re children’s grief counselors sent over by the sheriff’s office. Could we come in and talk for a minute?”  
  
Mrs. Lovitts hesitated, grasping the edge of the door as if she were going to close it. She finally responded, “The sheriff never told us about sending grief counselors. But,” she bit her lip, “I guess we could use all the help we can get. Maya has been acting strangely ever since… Well, please, come in.” Mrs. Lovitts opened the door wider and stepped aside.  
  
“Thank you, we won’t take too much of your time.” Sam smiled as he walked past the worried mother, who looked like she had missed a few good nights of sleep.  
  
Sam’s first impressions of the foyer was that it was very… funky. As well as dark. Surprising, considering the house’s light blue-and-white exterior. A patterned puce-green wallpaper combined with a lone, low-hanging bronze chandelier implied that the previous owner had not renovated since the 1970s. Orange shag carpet ran throughout all of the house, and the trim was dark brown wood. Almost immediately to the left was a set of stairs that circled down into a basement, a small niche with a potted spider plant alongside the curving wall. There was also a short, rectangular window at ground level made up of circle and diamond designs, all various shades of yellow, orange, and purple. There were two hallways, perpendicular to each other: one was narrow, extending to the back of the house. Dean noticed another set of stairs that appeared to lead upstairs. The other hallway was much wider, and there appeared to be more light in those other rooms. As Mrs. Lovitts turned right, Dean caught a glimpse at the left room, seeing a vintage wooden dining table and chairs with a tall cabinet filled with china. There were no pictures hanging on the walls, no shoes cluttered near the door, nothing implying that a young family with a young child were living there. It did not help the unsettling atmosphere.  
  
The Winchesters were led into a Victorian-style parlor that protruded out from the rest of the family room. Heavy blue curtains hung above the windows, blocking what would have been a perfect view into the neighborhood. This room had a plain, light blue wallpaper. Like the foyer the walls were sparse, save for an antique, round painting of a woman petting a crow. Dean could feel the woman’s eyes boring into him, as if she knew what he really was. The brothers simultaneously sunk down into the worn-out couch, the frame creaking lightly at the weight. The older Winchester shifted uncomfortably, turning his attention to  
Mrs. Lovitts, who was seated in a tan leather chair across from them. Pointing at the picture he said, “That’s quite a picture you’ve got there. Family heirloom?”  
  
She shook her head, tight curls bouncing softly. “No, it came with the house. It doesn’t go with the rest of our things, but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. Maya says that the lady is a queen and the crow is her secret spy,” Mrs. Lovitts smiled yet had a distant, concerned expression. “She’s always saying strange things like that.”  
  
Sam leaned forward and gave the worried mother his infamous puppy-dog eyes. Trying to sound as sincere and comforting possible, he said, “We’’ll do whatever we can to help out your daughter, Mrs. Lovitts. I promise, nothing is going to happen to her.”  
  
The sound of a door closing followed by the muffled sound of shoes on the shag carpet interrupted her response. “Wendy? Babe? Who’s car is that up front? They’ve got great taste, whoever…” A tall, well-built man wearing a tan jacket and pale blue sweater vest entered the parlor. Sweeping his eyes over the scene, focusing briefly on the Winchesters, he frowned. “What’s going on?”  
  
Still sitting down, Mrs. Lovitts reached out to grab his hand and replied, “Tony, this is Alan and Bruce, they’re grief counselors here to help Maya. The sheriff sent them over.”  
  
The brothers respectfully stood up. Dean smoothed his tie nervously as he extended his right hand. “We’re not gonna take up too much of your time today, Mr. Lovitts. This is just a consultation visit. We only wanted to meet you, get familiar with your family and home.”  
  
Mr Lovitts let go of his wife’s hand to accept Dean’s, shaking it with a firm grip. Looking Dean directly in the eyes, he said, “Thank you. Ever since what happened to poor Greg the other day, we’ve been so worried about Maya. She’s been acting… strangely. Well, more strangely than usual.”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘strangely’?” Sam asked.  
  
“Maya’s always been different,” Mrs. Lovitts explained. “She’ll talk about an event for days, weeks even, or tell us about a new friend she’s made in the neighborhood. At first we thought she was making it all up, and that she had an imaginary friend. But then,” she hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. “It came true. All of it. She said there’d be a huge tornado in the western part of the state, and it happened just a few days later. And that new friend she had been talking about for over a month moved here with his family five days ago.” A worry line deepened between her eyebrows as she sighed. “I can’t explain it. Neither of us can.”  
  
Sam looked over at Dean. They shared a knowing glance, silently agreeing that they were at the right spot. Sam turned back to Mr. Lovitts. “You said Maya’s been acting differently lately. What did you mean?”  
  
“The way Maya has been acting lately is, well, it’s freaky. You turn around, and she’ll be standing there, watching you, for who knows how long. She’s been whispering to those blackbirds that flock around her window every day, but she won’t talk to us about it. And…” He stopped.  
  
Mrs. Lovitts, noting his hesitation, finished, “Maya won’t stop talking about this old lady living in her closet.”  
  
“What old lady?” Asked Dean.  
  
“The nice old lady who tells me stories every night!” A small voice chirped.  
  
They all jumped and turned to see a little girl beaming up at them. She was wearing a bright yellow jacket and holding a pink polka-dotted umbrella. There was a light dusting of freckles across her brown nose, and she had brown hair as curly as her mother’s. Maya seemed unfazed by the startled looks on the adults’ faces. “Is that why you’re here? To help me find her book?” She asked innocently.  
  
Dean knelt down in front of Maya, his green eyes looking kindly into her hazel ones. “What book, Maya?”  
  
“It’s her _secret_ book! She says it has lots of good stories she could tell me, but she’s lost it and needs my help to get it back. If I find it, she promises to give me something _really_ big!”  
  
Sam noticed the worried expressions shared by Maya’s parents. When she saw his inquisitive expression, Mrs. Lovitts leaned over to Sam and whispered, “We’ve never heard about this book before.”  
  
Overhearing this, Dean asked Maya, “Would it be okay if you showed me your closet so I can try and find the old lady? Then we can start looking for that book.”  
  
Maya scrunched her face in deep thought at this offer. “I don’t know… The old lady doesn’t like other people. She only likes me.”  
  
Mrs. Lovitts stood up and crouched down by her daughter as well. “Maya, sweetie, this is Mr. McClane, and he wants to talk to you about Mr. Stein from the other day. You can trust him.”  
  
The little girl suddenly giggled. “He’s not Mr. McClane, Mommy! His name is _Dean_! And that’s his little brother Sammy! But you’re right, we can trust them. They’re gonna help me find the book.”  
  
Her parents immediately stared at the Winchesters, shocked and distrustful, no matter what their daughter said. Sam and Dean looked equally shocked and guilty.  
  
“ _What?_ ” Mr. Lovitts sputtered.  
  
“We, uh, you know… Heh, kids, am I right?” Dean nervously chuckled. “Um, Sammy? You got anything?” Sam only grimaced, not even trying to cover up this unexpected reveal.  
  
“I want you out of our house. Right. _Now_.” Mrs. Lovitts hissed through clenched teeth while holding Maya close to her side.  
  
Sam finally composed himself and said as soothingly as possible, “Mrs. Lovitts– Mr. Lovitts– we’re sorry about lying to you about who we are. We’re not grief counselors. But we _are_ here to help. Your daughter’s right; you can trust us. We will figure out what is going on and fix it. Then you’ll never hear from us again.”  
  
Maya tugged at her mom’s long, loose-fitting shirt. “He’s right, Mommy. They only want to help. I want them to stay.”  
  
Neither of her parents seemed comforted by that statement. The Lovitts started talking in hurried, hushed voices. Tension and embarrassment hung thick and heavy in the air. Dean loosened his tie. Sam shifted uncomfortably, hands deep in his pockets. Maya looked back and forth between her parents and the two brothers, calm and curious.  
  
“Fine.” Mrs. Lovitts finally said. “You can stay. But only for three days. After that, you are to get in your car and drive away, no matter what happens.” Her husband didn’t look happy, but nodded his head.  
  
The Winchesters let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you so much, we promise we’ll figure out what’s going on,” Sam said.  
  
“Yeah, we’ll be outta here so fast, you won’t even remember we were here. Hell, by the end of this, we might even end up the best of friends,” Dean half-smiled, trying to diffuse the awkward situation. No one else was smiling.  
  
No one else except Maya.  
  
“Yay! Let’s go up to my room and look for that book!” She grabbed Dean’s hand and started dragging him away.  
  
“Wait, Maya, sweetie, let me come with you!” Her mother called out, following them towards the set of stairs leading to the second floor.  
  
Sam and Mr. Lovitts awkwardly stayed in the parlor.  
  
“ _Ehem_ , um, mind if I… look around the house, Mr. Lovitts?” Sam asked.  
  
As they toured through the main floor, Dean allowed himself to be pulled up the stairs by Maya. Her mother stayed close behind him, her eyes boring into the back of his neck. The final step opened up into a bright, airy room that obviously belonged to a six-year old girl. There was a gabled window with a cushioned window seat overlooking the street, though a large oak tree blocked most of the view. Posters of animated people and animals decorated the slanted ceiling, a refreshing change from downstairs. A bed with a purple squishy-looking comforter was on the right side of the room, a large pile of clothes and plastic ponies surrounding it. Next to the bed was a small closet with its door wide open.  
  
Maya pointed to the window and said matter-of-factly, “That’s where I first saw the old lady. She smiled and waved at me when I was playing outside and Mr. Stein died.” She looked up at Dean, smiling. “At first I was scared of her, but now she’s my best friend. We do everything together.”  
  
Dean, ignoring how creepy that all sounded, smiled back down at her. “Well, that– that’s really nice, Maya. And when you talk to the old lady, is it only at night? And do you ever get really cold?”  
  
Maya thought about it, scrunching her nose again trying to remember. “Sometimes I get cold, but not always. And we used to just talk at night, but now she plays with me whenever I like! Like right now.”  
  
He blinked, taken aback by this new insight. He noticed Mrs. Lovitts jump out of the corner of his eye. _She obviously doesn’t like this news, either._ Dean let go of Maya’s hand and knelt down on one knee in front of her. “What do you mean? Is she here right now?”  
  
The little girl nodded her head smugly. “Mmmhmmm! She’s standing right behind you, in the closet. Though she doesn’t look very happy to see you, Dean.”


	3. Chapter 3

Maya saw the old lady standing in her closet the moment they all entered the room. The lady’s dark clothes hung on her haggard frame: the skirt had brown stains everywhere, and a frayed, airy shawl covered a dark blouse. Her bare feet were knobby with long, thick toenails. The lady’s skin was stretched so thin Maya could see black veins coursing all across her hands and neck. She wore various types of bracelets and necklaces, some made out of beads, others from long-faded pieces of string, all of them tangled up in each other. It almost looked like one of those crow’s nests Maya saw one time while out on a walk with Daddy. Her hair was just as limp and unkempt as that first time Maya saw her in the window.

At first Maya spotted her friend peering out from behind her puffy pink coat and light green Princess Tiana dress-up costume hanging up in the closet. The old lady’s fingers –adorned with so many rings with fancy designs and dark jewels– grasped onto the dress. She had a funny expression on her face, like she was too scared to come out but also wanted yell at Mommy and Dean. Maya had never seen her look like this. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.

Maya watched the tall man stride around the room, looking out of the circular window, crouching down to check under her bed. She noticed the old lady was watching him, too. Her puffy eyes looked very, very hungry. 

“What do you mean? Is she here right now?” He asked, looking serious. Like most grown-ups, he just didn’t understand.

“Mmmhmmm! She’s standing right behind you, in the closet. Though she doesn’t look very happy to see you, Dean.” As she said this, the old lady stepped out of the closet. She loomed over Dean, but stared right into Maya’s eyes. The little girl blinked. Suddenly everything changed.

The colors turned black-and-white-and-grey, even the sunlight streaming through the window seemed different. Dean, who had stood up, was frozen. Maya looked back at her mom and saw that her horror-stricken face was stuck, too. The air smelled funny, like sweet, sticky dust mixed with autumn leaves. Even her bedroom walls looked different. The cream-colored painted walls had been replaced with peeling wallpaper with a twisted, almost menacing pattern. There were water stains and black mold growing everywhere. Maya’s pictures were still there, but instead of happy moments of playing with Mommy and Daddy, most were scribbled out with a black crayon. Big letters spanned across the various pieces of paper that Maya couldn’t entirely understand. There was no noise, even though Maya could see dozens of black birds sitting, waiting, in the big oak tree. The little girl felt very, very small. 

She looked up at the Old Lady, who was now smiling sweetly. She whispered something to Maya, the words somehow filling the entire room as if she had shouted it. Maya nodded. She understood. A grey hand reached out and took Maya’s small one. A cold, bony thumb caressed the soft skin. All of the warmth left Maya’s arm, but she didn’t mind. Her friend needed it more. The Old Lady let go and turned towards Dean, her face twisting into a dark glare. She walked backwards around him three times, never looking away. She finally stopped right behind him, but to Maya it looked like they were standing side by side. The old lady, now staring at Maya, drew a long fingernail across her throat. Though she didn’t break the skin, thick, black blood started running down her neck, flowing over her necklaces and staining her already dirty clothes. In unison with this action, a line appeared across Dean’s jugular. As the coagulated blood spurted out of the Old Lady, bright red blood came coursing out of Dean’s throat. Maya watched him stand there, frozen and unfazed by the life force literally draining out of him. The strange golden amulet he wore was soon drenched red. Maya blinked yet again. She felt strangely calm.

Leaving Dean, the old lady stepped calmly towards Mommy. The blood had stopped flowing from out of her neck, but it now looked like spilled oil, with purples and greens mixing in with the black sludge. The lady started walking around the other woman, only this time she walked forwards. When she stopped, Maya didn’t feel scared or worried as she watched her friend drag a long fingernail along her mother’s cheek. No blood came out of the thin scratch, but something was happening to her eyes. Her irises began to widen more and more, until there was no more golden brown. Soon all of the white was gone, too. Mommy’s beautiful eyes were darker than black, they were like eternal voids. Suddenly cracks started forming. Her eyes were drying out, on the verge of crumbling into dust. Before they did, however, black blood began to leak through every crack. With her mouth frozen in horror and her mutilated eyes, a part of Maya thought that Mommy looked better this way. The little girl cocked her head.

The Old Lady wiped away Mommy’s dark tears with a finger. She put that finger up to her lips for a brief moment. Small rivulets of red blood were dripping out of the corners of the lady’s eyes. She whispered one more thing to Maya, words the little girl would never forget. Maya smiled, and then she closed her eyes.

_“…Sweetie, can you hear me?”_ A gentle, far-off voice called…

“ _Maya, c’mon, wake up!”_ A gruff man’s voice sounded closer…

“ _Maya!_ ” Her mother screamed.

Maya opened her eyes, blinking quickly from the sudden bright light. She saw Dean’s worried face above her own. Mommy was next to him, her arms wrapped tightly around the little girl. She looked like she was about to cry.

Color had come back to the room, so had sound and light. There was a flock of blackbirds fluttering and singing outside, their shadows flitting across the wooden floor. Maya could only faintly hear Dean and her mom talking. She didn’t pay too much attention to them. Her whole head was throbbing, and she felt very tired and shaky. Somehow Maya had ended up on the hard floor, that was probably why she felt sick. Maya scanned the room, particularly the closet. Her friend was gone. 

Feeling Mommy’s hand press down on her forehead, checking for a fever, Maya looked up at those beautiful golden brown eyes. _Did they always look like this?_ She thought. She couldn’t remember, but Maya could have sworn they were darker… A funny feeling suddenly came over her. A small giggle turned into a weak laugh. She smiled sweetly up at her mother. “The old lady doesn’t like you either, Mommy.” Maya saw her mother share a horrified look with Dean, and then she fell back asleep.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

After they toured through the kitchen, master bedroom, and backyard, Mr. Lovitts led Sam into the basement. So far Sam hadn’t noticed anything that set off any alarms in his hunter-trained mind. As they descended down the stairs, however, something felt off to him. Maybe the room was colder than most basements, maybe it felt smaller than it should be, maybe it was paranoia of things lurking in the dark. Or maybe it was nothing and Sam just wanted an excuse to feel wary. Either way a dull pain emerged in his right temple which didn’t help anything.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Lovitts pulled on a chain that lit up a yellow lightbulb. The basement was mostly filled up with stacks of plastic boxes (some piles looking more precarious than others) that lined the brick-and-mortar walls. “There’s nothing down here except our boxes of useless crap. Christmas decorations, Maya’s baby clothes, that kind of stuff,” Mr. Lovitts said. Sam took a step forward, reading the labels on the side of the boxes, and asked, “How long have you and your family lived here?”

“About three years. Wendy wanted to move somewhere quieter to raise Maya, so we wound up buying this place. It’s weird,” the man stopped rummaging through a box labeled _Dad’s Sweaters_ , “we bought this house at a steal of a price. The realtor said it was because some of the structural work isn’t up to code, but now I wonder if it wasn’t something else.”

Sam turned to look at Mr. Lovitts, who was aggressively stuffing a rather ugly red, blue, and green knitted sweater back into the box. In his most sincere, consoling voice, he said, “My brother and I won’t let anything happen to your daughter. I promise.”

Without looking up, Mr. Lovitts scoffed. “That’s real comforting coming from the guy who lied his way into my house. How do I know that you’re not some satan-worshiping junkie who’s just stringing us along and is gonna kill us at the full moon? The only reason why I didn’t call the cops on you and your brother is because my baby girl trusts you. But the way she’s been acting lately, having all these visions or whatever and talking about this hidden book, I’m not entirely sure she’s even my daughter anymore!” He forcefully threw the sweater across the room, causing a stack of boxes to wobble and dust to fly up in the air. 

Sam, startled and suddenly very wary of the other man, stretched out his hands placatingly. “Mr. Lovitts, I’m sorry we lied to you. And I understand that you’re scared and confused. But if we’re going to work through this, I need you to have a little faith in me. More importantly you need to have faith in your daughter. I’ve seen demonic possession before–” Mr. Lovitts sputtered but Sam continued anyway, “and trust me, that is still your daughter up there. She has a gift that is gonna draw in a lot of bad spirits throughout her life. Maybe even a monster or two.”

  
“ _Monsters?!?_ Now you’re telling me that the Wolfman is gonna come after –”

“No, no, nothing like that. All I’m saying is, Mr. Lovitts, is that Maya needs someone to help her be strong. She needs her father.” _Just like how we needed Dad_ , Sam thought with a sharp pang in his chest.

Mr. Lovitts clenched his jaw and stared hard at Sam. He then nodded. “Okay. I’ll follow your lead on this. For Maya’s sake.” He closed the lid on the box of sweaters and moved on to the next box. “Heh, maybe when this is all over you could tell me about all those monsters to look out for.”

The hunter flashed a brief half-smile. “I thought we were supposed to get the hell outta here when we were done?” 

Mr. Lovitts returned the smile. “You are. And I hope I never have to see you two ever again, but the only way to ensure that is if I know how to protect Maya myself.”

Sam nodded his head and didn’t say anything more. _All things considered, he’s doing a pretty good job adjusting to all of this. A lot better than most people_. He internally shivered, remembering that job in Detroit with that shapeshifter and her very… libidinous neighbor. That was a story neither of the Winchesters ever cared to talk about.

The two men continued searching through the basement in silence. Outside of a few cans of beans dating to the 1970s and a bathrobe with Mike Tyson’s face on it, Sam found nothing unusual or explained why a ghost was haunting Maya. Right as he was about to call it quits, his fingers brushed against something hard and wooden. Upon closer inspection he realized that it was a small leather-bound chest hidden beneath the staircase. Sam was grateful to see that there was no lock. “Hey, what’s this?” Sam asked as he opened it up. 

“What’s what?”

Sam furrowed his brow, looking at the contents of the chest. “This.” He turned around and held up a dirty, leather-bound journal. “I think we just found Maya’s secret book!” 

Suddenly a bright light flashed in Sam’s eyes, and his dormant headache came back in full force. He cried out in both shock and pain. He saw Mr. Lovitts rush towards hm, knocking down a few boxes in doing so, before Sam blacked out. 

“ _Sam!”_

_… Everything is blurry. Like a watercolor come to life, with shapes and colors mixing into each other. Sam can’t tell where he is, but it’s somewhere outside. He hears birds squawking and flying somewhere nearby. He thinks he can make out the shape of a barren tree. No, not a tree._

_A person._

_The person glides closer, grows taller, but Sam still cannot make out any features. A fierce wind starts howling, like the maws of Hell are calling. The figure is now just a few feet away. A voice… A harsh cruel voice attacks him from all around._

_.ESLE ENO ON .DETCETORP SI EH .DERAEPPA SAH NESOHC S’GNIK EHT_

_Before Sam could begin to try and make out the jumbled words, a pair of sickly yellow eyes stare out at him from the black figure. He recognizes those eyes. The figure moves ever closer, yet Sam cannot move. The world turns dark, and more pairs of yellow eyes appear everywhere. They’re all staring at him, waiting for him._

_Sam can now make out the figure’s face: an old woman. Throbbing black veins trail over her neck and face. She screams as she lunges towards Sam’s face… He can’t escape…_

“Winchester!”

Sam jolted up, panting. Mr. Lovitts was kneeling next to him, looking very shaken. “Are you okay, Sam?”

Sam’s heart raced, but at least his headache was subsiding. “Um, I don’t– I don’t know.” That awful voice was echoing in his head, blocking out any other thoughts. “But I might know how to talk to the old lady haunting Maya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took me a lot longer than I thought haha! Sorry for the long wait, but hopefully it won't take me another three months for the next chapter. I'm going to try really hard to get this whole fic finished up by Halloween. Here's hoping I succeed hahah!
> 
> Hope this chapter was worth the wait!!!! ^_^


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